Stranded
by xpriordeen
Summary: A missing scene from Mockingjay, set shortly after Peeta is rescued form the Capitol. When Katniss sees a mysterious room number inked on her arm as part of her schedule, her curiosity gets the best of her and she decides to actually show. Little does she know, she'll be coming face to face with Peeta again, although he is obviously not the boy she used to know.


She looked at him through the glass. It was impossibly thick, she knew, but looking through it, she could almost imagine that there was nothing separating the two of them. She knew there was. She knew it was more than this pane of glass. This morning, when she looked down at her arm to examine her schedule, she almost missed the new addition. At first, she scoffed at the unfamiliar room number, thinking that she was scheduled for some meeting about the "Mockingjay" and her "responsibilities." _Fuck that, _she thought. She never wanted this anyway. She wasn't hungry, so she planned to curl up in a closet immediately, but something about the fact that there was nothing inked in this time slot except a room number made her sit down next to Gale and show him her arm.

"You should go," he advised.

And he had looked so tired, so drained, that she was compelled to believe he was being honest with her. So she went, and if she had any energy, any motivation at all this morning, it was gone as soon as she arrived at her destination. Now, she hurt everywhere. She ached at the thought of Peeta Mellark. But this wasn't just the thought of him. This was him. She tugged nervously at the bracelet that listed all of her medical conditions. She scoffed for the second time today. It was really the only noise she was willing to make. If anyone was mentally unstable, it was Peeta. She should be considered fully functional compared to him. As soon as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt guilty. The guilt brings her back to her senses, to the present, to her current situation, to Peeta. Dragging her attention back to the glass, she studies him. She thinks that she's never seen a human in worse condition. His body looks smaller than she remembers. No, that can't be right. She sees the muscles ripple underneath his shirt, despite the unflattering, District 13 issued material. His face does look thinner, though. She reminds herself that he was probably, no, definitely starved. Most of all, its his posture that makes him look to diminutive. He sits with his shoulders hunched as if he wants to cave into himself. She wants to wrap her arms around his waist and straighten him up, but she knows it will do more harm than good to the both of them. The look in his eyes matches his posture. They're sunken, with huge, dark bags that look like shadows on his sharp cheekbones. He stares at the wall, and while she isn't close enough to see directly into his irises, she can tell that they're no longer that beautiful, limpid blue. The only movement he makes is the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

"Soldier Everdeen."

The voice sounds like an echo.

"Soldier Everdeen."

It isn't. She looks to the panel of doctors next to her.

"We'd like you to go in now."

She nods and shuffles to the door, thinking that this seems more like a science experiment than two people talking to each other. That's all they are. An experiment. Can they even be considered people? Or are they just variables? The door buzzes, signaling that it has been unlocked for her, and she enters the room. She pulls out a chair from the small table and sits opposite Peeta. They're so close. If she wanted to, she could reach out and take his hand. She knows better. The screeching of the metal chair legs on the metal floor draws Peeta's attention. He looks through her and groans. They're both silent. Minutes pass before she finally speaks.

"I'm here to talk," she tells him.

"I have nothing to say to you."

His voice sounds dark and it comes out cracked, like he's hoarse. She's stunned. The Peeta she knew would never speak to her like that, and he always had something to say. Something beautiful. The nostalgia makes her physically ache, and she wraps her arms around her body as if to hold herself together. He rolls his eyes.

"I won't hurt you. I can't. See?"

He raises his arm as high off the table as it will go. His wrists are both chained to the surface. She nods in understanding, and she knows that she has to say something, but she has no idea where to start.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He doesn't interrupt.

"I don't know exactly what happened to you in the Capitol…"

He cuts her off.

"No, you wouldn't know, would you? You don't even care. They tortured me, Katniss! They beat me! They beat me just like my mother used to! They starved me and hit me and shocked me and stuck me with needles! They made me watch my family die! I had to listen to them torture people I know! I was attacked and assaulted and tortured, Katniss! Do you know what that's like!? Do you!?"

His face contorts with rage and he grits his teeth, hands clenched in fists, wrists straining against the cuffs. They dig into his skin, drawing blood which circles his wrists like sick, beautiful bracelets, dripping down onto the table and onto his forearms.

"Peeta," she chokes.

"No. You have no idea!"

His voice rises again.

"And then, when that wasn't enough, they took my fucking mind, Katniss!"

She takes his pause as a moment to interject. She's never been good at controlling her anger, so she doesn't bother trying.

"You think I don't wish it was me instead of you!? You think I don't spend every day hating Haymitch for saving me over you!? You think I wasn't sick with worry everyday until you were rescued!? Peeta…"

"Why did you rescue me!? I don't want to be here!"

He spits the words like they're bile in his mouth, but presses on.

"I don't want to be chained to a fucking table and monitored every second and stared at and whispered about like the fucking monster I am! At lease in the Capitol they knew what to do with me! Here, I have to sit around, knowing that you get to wander free like some innocent little doe that wouldn't hurt a fly! You should be chained! You're a killer! You killed my family! You manipulated me into loving you! I never really loved you, Kanitss Everdeen! You used me! You… you…"

His pants like he just ran a mile uphill.

"Why did you rescue me?" He repeats.

"I just want to die! Just let me fucking die already!"

He pulls harder at the chains and bangs his head on the table. She flies up out of her chair and screams for help. _Why is no one helping him?_ He screams and bangs his head again, and she throws herself at him, trying to calm him down, trying to stop the blood flow from his wrists, trying to hold him back so he can't make contact with the metal tabletop any more. She grips his shoulders and screams when the doctors in their clean white coats finally come rushing in. They try to pull her off him, but she doesn't let go. She doesn't want to let go. She won't let go. She won't let them hurt him anymore. She screams, and he screams, and their screams come together like a choir of pain and agony and suffering. She clings to him, shaking, feeling him shake, and they tremble as one until she sees them slip a needle into his bicep. His eyes go wide and he slumps in her grip, one final moan escaping his lips.

"Peeta."

She tries to scream his name, but it comes out like a whimper. A needle pierces her skin and she goes willingly into the medically induced coma. She needs him, and the realization that he's gone hits her hard. It breaks her. Without him, she is an island alone. She is stranded, with no one to hear her cries. He is stranded, without her to help him recover his mind.


End file.
